I glanced at John, methodically stacking empty cartons to go back into the attic. He didn’t have a box from his mother. No ornaments, no traditions carefully preserved and passed on. He didn’t have the example of two parents sticking together for better or worse, in sickness and in health, through chores and children and deployment. The only father he’d ever known walked out on his family when John was a little boy, leaving him without a male role model.

Carefully, I hung an angel on the tree. “I stopped by the dealership today.”

“Yeah, Trey told me.” Was it my imagination or did John sound wary? “Sorry I missed you. How’d your meeting go with Carl?”

“Well. The new accounting system will save him a lot of time. And I think I’ll be able to do some of the work from home.”

The overloaded branch finally gave up its burden, sending red balls bouncing and rolling all over the living room rug. Daisy shrieked—in outrage? delight?—as DJ stooped to grab a ball and threw it again at the tree.

“Good arm,” John said.

“He must get his athletic ability from you.” I dropped to my knees, digging under the couch for a rolling ornament. “Daisy, honey, it’s all right.”

John hooked a finger in the back of DJ’s overalls, hauling him away from the tree. “That’s good. As long as you’re happy. You have enough on your plate right now dealing with your parents.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” I sat back on my heels. “Do you think you could stay home with the twins again this Saturday? It’s the last farmers’ market before Christmas.”

John picked up Daisy. “I can do that.”

“You can make more selling cars than I can selling cheese.”

He shot me a glance. “It’s not about the money, Meg.”

“No, it’s not.” I took a deep breath. “If there’s something else you have to do that day . . .”

His eyes flickered. “It doesn’t matter. You heard Trey. The dealership can manage without me for one more day.”

“And the wrestling team?” I asked in a steady voice. “Can they manage without you, too?”

John set our daughter carefully on her feet. “So you heard about that.”

“Trey said something. I sort of guessed the rest. How long has this been going on?” I asked. Like I’d caught him having an affair.

He looked away, at the tree. “At first it was just . . . I dropped in every once in a while. To see how the team was getting on. But this summer, the coach quit to take a teaching job in Virginia, and Ben—you know Ben Hardy in the math department—took over the program. He means well, but he doesn’t have any coaching experience. I’m just helping out until he learns the ropes.”

DJ hung another red ball on the tree.

“I wish you’d said something.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Not talking to me . . . That’s what worries me. It’s like my dad, keeping secrets from my mom. Or my mom, not telling my sisters about her surgery. You should have told me.”